


Something You Won't Forget, It's All About My Forehead

by CaitClandestine



Category: Conor Maynard - Fandom, Jack Maynard - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Conor's Forehead, M/M, Ruining Of Conor's Brand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 02:50:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14275293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaitClandestine/pseuds/CaitClandestine
Summary: Jack finds a new way to distract Conor from complaining about his forehead.





	Something You Won't Forget, It's All About My Forehead

**Author's Note:**

> Definitely ruining Conor's brand here. In all truth though I had never heard of either Maynard until I saw all the forehead related shenanigans so i'd actually argue it's helping expand his market (Granted i'm not sure this fic is the direction he'd like that expansion to go.....)
> 
> Is this ship even a thing?

For all the bitching his brother does about the constant running commentary on his forehead right now Jack's having trouble seeing any downside. 

They're in some club in east London, sweaty, crowded and just underground enough that Conor's presence isn't super obvious and late enough that the few people who have recognised him are way too drunk to care apart from the two definitely older women that have just interrupted Jack's very important sing-along-snapchat and they're stunners, tall and tan and buxom and not at all subtle, pressing up on each side of Conor for a photo and of course Conor's all easy charm and award winning smile.

"Can we kiss your forehead like, together?" Left-side asks, looking at her friend as both of them burst into drunken giggles and for a split second Conor's wide grin falters before he laughs with them. 

It should be the end of it, a flash of a moment in their busy lives but Conor's been half-heartedly sulking the rest of the night, including the ride home and continuing on into the lift on the way up to their flat.

Jack's mostly been tuning him out, catching only the occasional 'so unfair' or 'they're dead to me' but it's starting to get on his nerves because Conor will just not shut up, stuck at the super-talkative tipsy phase and his brother is likely the only man on earth to complain about having two very beautiful women want to kiss him at all. Attractive women are welcome to kiss Jack anywhere, any time. 

"Will you give it a fucking rest" He snaps, "Two absolute babes wanted to kiss your giant fucking forehead how fucking awful"

Conor flips him off, eyes narrowing. "Don't get pissy just because no one wanted to kiss you"

"I have my regular sized head to thank for that" Jack can't help but fire back because winding Conor up is instinctive at this point in their lives and he's had just enough to drink that his sense of self-preservation isn't entirely intact. 

"Fuck off" The punch to his shoulder is swift and not entirely unexpected but Jack still yelps, throwing out a foot to nail Conor right in the shin, sticking his tongue out like the victorious adult he is when his brother howls way louder than he had.

Conor starts bumping into him as they step out of the lift and start making their way down the hall, gentle nudges at first and then more aggressive as Jack starts to push back again and again, making a few attempts before he succeeds at getting his arm around his brothers neck in a headlock and Conor struggles more than he really needs to, a constant stream of curses and snorts of laughter under his breath so they don't wake the neighbours. There's sweat starting to prickle at the back of Jack's neck and it takes real self-control not to grab Conor by the hood of his stupid puffy coat and slam him against the wall no matter how much he wants to. 

He does however seek out and keep a tight grip on Conor's elbow with one hand while he searches for his keys.

"Ow, don't bruise the merchandise" Conor protests and Jack makes a point to grip even tighter. He hopes it does bruise, that he'll get to look at the fading marks for the next week. 

The door clicks open and he shoves the other man in front of him, pushing him across the threshold and slamming it behind them, barely able to slide the chain into place before his hands are around Conor's throat, pinning him up against the wall.

"You just never shut up" He hisses, leaning in, "You're always bitching about how everyone’s talking about it but no one mentions it more than you"

Conor's hands come up to curl around his wrists and though his eyes are wide he makes no move to throw in a snarky comment or even push Jack away, both of them breathing heavily, faces inches from each other. Jack presses tighter, feels Conor swallow tightly against his fingers. It feels good, finally shutting his brother up. 

He leans forward almost without thinking and Conor tastes of his last drink, a sickly sweet pink number complete with little umbrella that it was Jack's duty to mock like he always does but he doesn't hate it, keeps chasing the taste as Conor lets out a strangled whine into his mouth and he finally relinquishes his grip, hands darting down the buttons on his brothers coat instead, fumbling them open one by one and underneath he's wearing an almost identical black shirt to Jack's own, probably was his at some point because it's just a little too tight, a little too worn around the collar.

His own coat follows and his whole body shivers when he realises that Conor hasn't moved off the wall, hands clenched by his sides like he's just waiting for whatever Jack might offer him next.

Conor's bright red beanie is what he reaches for, fluffy mess of hair popping out from underneath and Jack runs a hand through it, styles it back into a more flattering shape, thumb rubbing a gentle line across the worlds most controversial forehead. There's a few specks of glitter on his brothers perfect skin and Jack frowns when he considers it might be from the women, closes his eyes and joins their lips again, lets Conor's arms wrap around his neck and pull him in even closer, follows his lead from quick kisses to something deep and slow that pulls in chest, reminds him just how much he wants.

They break apart what seems like a gloriously long time later and Conor rests his head on Jack's shoulder, a rumble of amusement in his throat as Jack gives into temptation and wiggles them away from the wall just far enough that he can slide his hands into his brothers back pockets and squeeze.

A hundred clichéd, pornographic thoughts run through his head about just how he can keep Conor quiet but none of them seem right, not fit to leave his head and ruin the moment.

He steps them back against the wall, squares his shoulders and stands up straight, leveraging the precious few centimetres he has over Conor to box him in, drag his hands around to tug at both of their belts and Conor whines again as Jack deliberately rubs against him, hips nudging forward and he can't explain what it does to him, knowing that Conor's just as suddenly desperate as he is, hard and wanting.

"I could be quiet" Conor murmurs into his ear low and husky, finding the words that Jack can't. "If you wanted"

Jack's barely nodding before Conor's sliding down to his knees in the tiny space and Jack doesn't step back at first, lets Conor's forehead come to rest against his zipper. 

He likes it like this, like they haven't got time to be naked or even take off their fucking shoes, couldn't even make it more than a few metres from their front fucking door. He backs up, let's Conor pull down his jeans and underwear just far enough and it's everything that he's so unabashed about his affection for this particular activity, soft pink lips and mouth and tongue on him so swiftly that Jack's groaning before he can stop himself and he'll be damned if Conor doesn't fucking look up and wink at him.

He lets Conor set the pace, soft suction on the head of his cock before he starts to slide down and he's not really thinking of anything other than how good it feels right now and sense memory of how fucking good it's going to be really soon when the thought pops into his head and Jack has to take several deeps breaths to control himself. 

Conor's hands curl around his hips as he presses further forward and Jack slides his own to the other mans hair, ruining the careful correction he'd made earlier and his cock is slick with spit when he just can't fucking help it, draws back from the warmth of Conor's mouth and reaches down to grasp himself before he smears a long, wet line along his brothers forehead, holding his breath and staring down at Conor because this hasn't exactly happened like this before and part of Jack's terrified he's taking things too far but Conor just looks at him for a long moment and then his body relaxes into a shrug and a smirk lurks around the corners of his spit slick mouth.

Conor's tongue is almost unbearably hot when Jack slides back into it and this time he leans his head back and lets Jack fuck his mouth as he pleases and Jack does please, wrapping his fingers tighter into Conor's hair to keep him still and every so often Conor's closed eyes peek open with a look that pries right into his soul and every dirty thought he's ever fucking about them doing this.

It builds quickly, Jack is just a man with the most tempting being in front of him how can he not want to come all the time in Conor's presence is really the amazing thing and he starts to hold his strokes, makes Conor swallow around him, throat bobbing and Jack has to shift a hand to brace against the wall, sweaty palm slipping against the paint as he uses the other to practically pull his cock from Conor's mouth again just as starts to come, long streaks across Conor's forehead as he presses himself against it, the very head of his cock pulsing against his brothers skin.

"Fuck" He says hoarsely, air punched out of him and he's unable to draw enough breath. "Oh fuck"

His whole body is quivering and it's so fucking good, eyes glued to the mess he's made, Conor's eyes still closed as Jack's come starts to run down into his lashes, holding completely still except for the heaving of his chest, the rushed breaths through his swollen lips.

"Jack"

It's barely more than a whisper but Jack reacts like Conor's screaming his name, dropping to knees and relieved to do so because he's jelly right now, Conor lurching forward and before he knows it Jack's pressing their foreheads together in a sinfully filthy bond as he reaches to tug his brothers zipper down, can feel how hard his cock is shoved up against it, underwear damp and hot and Conor's hands are pushing his away, wrapping around himself like he doesn't trust Jack to do it and Jack nearly growls, licking his palm before he wraps his hand around Conor's, intertwines their fingers and he could've gotten away without it, Conor's cock so wet and red it's an easy slide.

"Let me" He pleads but it takes several sure strokes of their joined hands before Conor lets go, a deep groan pitching from his lips as he makes sure there's not an inch of body space between them, hips struggling to match Jack's new rhythm, head beginning to slip forward and Jack uses his free hand to tug it back, wants Conor to moan into his mouth rather than his shoulder and his lips are still so wet, kisses messy and his brothers so fucking done already, a moan on every breath and unable to keep still, fingers clinging to the back of Jack's shirt.

"Look at me" Jack has to see because Conor's so fucking gorgeous like this, strung out and lashes thick with his come, watery baby blues looking at him for two strokes, three and four before they clench tightly shut and Jack never tires of watching him come, the way he throws his whole body into it, muscles drawing tight and releasing in a primal flail of limbs and the way he still manages to fit Jack's name into his wavering cry of pleasure is the only soundtrack Jack'll ever need.


End file.
